I'm glad i married who I married. I really am. Soul mate, best friend, sounding board, all of that ... but somtimes, just plain darned asinine. I'm not just saying this. Its absolutely true and is reconfirmed, week after week after week. This week ...
So the man is in desert country working and working very hard indeed. A hard day at the office usually ends around seven in the evening with his trusted JD and a frugal meal consisting of only about 5 courses, washed down with a movie or two before the staright eight hours repose and then its office again. Tough. Very tough.
Now, I am here - in Bangalore. With two kids aged 5 years and 3 months and I have it easy as pie let me tell you. I only have to wake up at about 5 every morning, feed, water bathe 2 kids, drop one at school, get back, work on my technical writing projects for 4 hours while also juggling baby and her 5,000 needs. Then I have the pleasant task of getting the elder one back from school, organize his lunch, feed the baby AGAIN, handle badgering calls from clients asking for "where the hell is that content you promised me dammit!", make nice with mom, do chores for my dad, play with my son, take him to the library, get his homework done, tell stories, be his friend, keep talking to my very social baby and then on perfect days like yesterday there is torrential rain. And my son is in drawing class. And I have to pick him up and there is nobody to watch the baby. And I don't have a car seat so I can't drive there. So I put her in a sling, open up my trusted umbrella, run to school, get my son, start walking back and the rain decides to do a number on me by pelting down like what not. So I hold the darned umbrella at an angle that soaks the back of my clothes and the back of my boy's rather large head. The baby is looking bewlidered at all this sudden activity and then she decides that she needs to express her discomfort with loud wails. People on the street are staring at us oddly and we just about manage to stumble into the building in a collective piece. I change and dry two tired kids, change and dry myself, run to the ktchen to get the tired artist his dinner and then the phone rings. The man at the other end says 'helllooo dahhhling, watcha doing? I am watching cartoons". So i tell him what I'm doing and he laughs. A brief tinkling sound and says "How do these things happen to you?".
And then the skies did open up. Now there's enough seismic activity from India to UAE and its definitely rocking the boat. And dead bang in the centre of the boat is this clueless man who just wishes that he had kept his mouth shut and offered up a long distance hug instead.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
Beloved
Friday morning and I've missed every deadline that makes up my daily routine. My son is at home because of a sore throat and enjoying his hard won time in front of the tv - Superman doing his thing. Baby daughter is beside me doing her darndest to turn over and establish a new milestone. Louis Armstrong is crooning Moon River on Media Player and I just read a funny, warm email from my husband. Lets just say that I'm in that particular state of mind that brings words like "contentment" and "well being" to mind. Perfect in fact, to take up Prats' tag and do it full justice :). She would like me to list out my top ten literary characters and I'm very happy to oblige.
I've done a mental prod through all the books I've ever read. Covering almost every genre and type. But no type of book has ever come quite close to upstaging for me the "classics" with their inmpossibly archaic scenarios. Zimbly love it! :). First on my list :
1. I'm going to have to cheat and put two names here. Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester from Bronte's classic. I first read it in school and I think to this day it has endured as my model for the most romantic story ever. My husband even thinks that I must have been a Quaker in my last birth. Jane is perfect and Mr. Rochester is the sort of man I want to be in love with.
2. Ayn Rand's Howard Roark, his orange hair and extremist ideals happened to me when I was at that age when everything is black and white and the only characters that capture your imagination are the impractical ones. The ones that don't exist in this dimension. I was waiting to be inspired and Roark certainly did that. I probably even looked for someone like him among my friends and men I dated. I think I may have married a certain likeness. Minus the orange hair though. Minus most of his hair actually. Ah well ...
3. A favorite uncle gifted me the complete works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle on my 13th birthday. I started reading the night of my birthday party, and had to be physically separated from that big, fat volume a few days later. I tried to convince my parents to buy me a magnifying glass and a beret but they wouldn't work without Sherlock Holmes' acquiline nose and I didn't have enough pocket money for a nose job. That was that. But a more interesting, brilliant, sardonic, perfectly imperfect cocaine habit sporting fictional detective I have yet to find. Though I love Sue Grafton's Kinsey Milhone almost as much.
4. Crime novels have always been a favorite and I'm really sorry Agatha Christie died - but she left me Hercule Poirot. He's smart, humane and has any number of obsessive, compulsive disorders. But I started eating chocolates because he loves them so much and in my book - no tall, dark, handsome man can compete with his short, egg shaped head and magnificent moustaches. Plus he's the perfect gentleman and takes the law into his own perfectly manicured hands when it involves a woman who he thinks is noble. Even if she did commit murder.
5. Margaret Schlegel from E.M. Forster's Howard's End. As I grow older, I find myself embodying traits I found in her. A lot of women of a certain age will identify with her rooted to the earth practical nature, her dreams, wisdom, her refusal to accept human nature at face value - I'm sure will strike a chord. I've read the book thrice and each time has been a joy.
6. For sheer intensity, nobody can beat Emily Bronte's Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights. I guess his effect on all young girls who read him was the same. At my age, he now qualifies as an abusive, self-centered, over emotional excuse for a man, but back when I didn't know any better, that sort of "take what you want" man had a certain dangerous charm. Gosh, an objective review of Heathcliff! I am definitely old!
7. Iris Griffen from Margaret Atwood's "Blind Assassin". She had that unattainable style and ultimate nobility that made her unforgettable for me.
8. Lord Emsworth from Blanding's Castle. Why don't they make people like that anymore? Delightfully British and hilarious - this Lord of the manor is my favorite Wodehouse character of all time. I know Jeeves is a universal favorite, but ... well ... I always found him to be kind of sly. Lord Emsworth and his prize pig Empress have saved me from the blues more times than I can remember - er ... corny, but true :)
9. Estha from God of Small Things. Arundathi Roy was right when she said that she would write just that one novel. She couldn't possible top that anyway - when you squeeze your entire soul into one story, whats left to give? Esthappan's character touched me in ways that cannot be described. So I won't try.
10. Maneck from Rohinton Mistry's Fine Balance. Actually even Dina, Om and his nephew (can't remember his name). But Maneck left an indelible impression for his grit, struggle, the slow and shocking coming of age in an India that most of us never experience and his final defeat made me go all silent for awhile after I put down the book.
So this post is done and its already Saturday morning. Between looking after the kids and doing only a million other things, couldn't post this yesterday. But Prats, thanks for this. Enjoyed myself! :)
I've done a mental prod through all the books I've ever read. Covering almost every genre and type. But no type of book has ever come quite close to upstaging for me the "classics" with their inmpossibly archaic scenarios. Zimbly love it! :). First on my list :
1. I'm going to have to cheat and put two names here. Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester from Bronte's classic. I first read it in school and I think to this day it has endured as my model for the most romantic story ever. My husband even thinks that I must have been a Quaker in my last birth. Jane is perfect and Mr. Rochester is the sort of man I want to be in love with.
2. Ayn Rand's Howard Roark, his orange hair and extremist ideals happened to me when I was at that age when everything is black and white and the only characters that capture your imagination are the impractical ones. The ones that don't exist in this dimension. I was waiting to be inspired and Roark certainly did that. I probably even looked for someone like him among my friends and men I dated. I think I may have married a certain likeness. Minus the orange hair though. Minus most of his hair actually. Ah well ...
3. A favorite uncle gifted me the complete works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle on my 13th birthday. I started reading the night of my birthday party, and had to be physically separated from that big, fat volume a few days later. I tried to convince my parents to buy me a magnifying glass and a beret but they wouldn't work without Sherlock Holmes' acquiline nose and I didn't have enough pocket money for a nose job. That was that. But a more interesting, brilliant, sardonic, perfectly imperfect cocaine habit sporting fictional detective I have yet to find. Though I love Sue Grafton's Kinsey Milhone almost as much.
4. Crime novels have always been a favorite and I'm really sorry Agatha Christie died - but she left me Hercule Poirot. He's smart, humane and has any number of obsessive, compulsive disorders. But I started eating chocolates because he loves them so much and in my book - no tall, dark, handsome man can compete with his short, egg shaped head and magnificent moustaches. Plus he's the perfect gentleman and takes the law into his own perfectly manicured hands when it involves a woman who he thinks is noble. Even if she did commit murder.
5. Margaret Schlegel from E.M. Forster's Howard's End. As I grow older, I find myself embodying traits I found in her. A lot of women of a certain age will identify with her rooted to the earth practical nature, her dreams, wisdom, her refusal to accept human nature at face value - I'm sure will strike a chord. I've read the book thrice and each time has been a joy.
6. For sheer intensity, nobody can beat Emily Bronte's Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights. I guess his effect on all young girls who read him was the same. At my age, he now qualifies as an abusive, self-centered, over emotional excuse for a man, but back when I didn't know any better, that sort of "take what you want" man had a certain dangerous charm. Gosh, an objective review of Heathcliff! I am definitely old!
7. Iris Griffen from Margaret Atwood's "Blind Assassin". She had that unattainable style and ultimate nobility that made her unforgettable for me.
8. Lord Emsworth from Blanding's Castle. Why don't they make people like that anymore? Delightfully British and hilarious - this Lord of the manor is my favorite Wodehouse character of all time. I know Jeeves is a universal favorite, but ... well ... I always found him to be kind of sly. Lord Emsworth and his prize pig Empress have saved me from the blues more times than I can remember - er ... corny, but true :)
9. Estha from God of Small Things. Arundathi Roy was right when she said that she would write just that one novel. She couldn't possible top that anyway - when you squeeze your entire soul into one story, whats left to give? Esthappan's character touched me in ways that cannot be described. So I won't try.
10. Maneck from Rohinton Mistry's Fine Balance. Actually even Dina, Om and his nephew (can't remember his name). But Maneck left an indelible impression for his grit, struggle, the slow and shocking coming of age in an India that most of us never experience and his final defeat made me go all silent for awhile after I put down the book.
So this post is done and its already Saturday morning. Between looking after the kids and doing only a million other things, couldn't post this yesterday. But Prats, thanks for this. Enjoyed myself! :)
Thursday, June 26, 2008
On Thinking Outward
Occurs to me that there are hardly any chance meetings in life. Sometime ago, I arrived at the conclusion that every single person we relate with in the course of our lives have been put there as a sort of a mirror - or a gauge ... a means in other words to help us expand minds, hearts, perspectives, beahviour patterns. Knowing this entirely shifts the way we see and do things. Why am I writing about this today? I don't know ... maybe I went for a walk all by my lonesome and had the uncanny feeling that I was everyone else and vice versa. A feeling of oneness with human kind. But its true. Someone in its infinite wisdom (or game of dice!) is definitely playing relay tag with us.
I took my 2 month old to a restaurant recently and standing at the door was a beggar with an infant tied to her bosom. She stood there trying to feed the baby and retaining some semblance of modesty all at the same time. We spoke and turned out that our kids were the same age and we were both nursing our children and only the circumstances were different. Only that. I get porridge and nuts and vitamins to ensure my good health and she gets whatever she can scavenge for. But somehow, beyond the obvious pity and the sudden need I had to really cry, I re-learnt a lesson in fortitude. I don't get so tired at the end of the day anymore.
Which brings me to an important issue. We simply must start a soup kitchen type of place. Of course there is enough food for everyone ... its simply not getting to those who are hungry. I was thinking of approaching hotel kitchens to take away whatever they think they can discard everyday - I know for a fact that most of it is unspoilt. I mean if it were home, we would be re-heating it for next day's lunch box or something. But we need a place and municipal permission. If anyone has any bright ideas, write to me please. I'm looking as well.
Meanwhile, I'm looking forward to the Bangalore bloggers meet being organized by Gazal. Shall write about how it went soon :)
I took my 2 month old to a restaurant recently and standing at the door was a beggar with an infant tied to her bosom. She stood there trying to feed the baby and retaining some semblance of modesty all at the same time. We spoke and turned out that our kids were the same age and we were both nursing our children and only the circumstances were different. Only that. I get porridge and nuts and vitamins to ensure my good health and she gets whatever she can scavenge for. But somehow, beyond the obvious pity and the sudden need I had to really cry, I re-learnt a lesson in fortitude. I don't get so tired at the end of the day anymore.
Which brings me to an important issue. We simply must start a soup kitchen type of place. Of course there is enough food for everyone ... its simply not getting to those who are hungry. I was thinking of approaching hotel kitchens to take away whatever they think they can discard everyday - I know for a fact that most of it is unspoilt. I mean if it were home, we would be re-heating it for next day's lunch box or something. But we need a place and municipal permission. If anyone has any bright ideas, write to me please. I'm looking as well.
Meanwhile, I'm looking forward to the Bangalore bloggers meet being organized by Gazal. Shall write about how it went soon :)
Thursday, June 12, 2008
The Plug
I am currently residing amid fame and literary glory in the form of my artistically inclined dad - the pater is this seasoned theatre personality. Ever since he's "retired" from his day job, he actually hasn't :). What used to be a one play per year interest has now become a full fledged theatre industry and Flat number A402, has some really er interesting comings and goings, histrionics and sightings let me tell you.
Dad owns a theatre company called Kalayan - active in Bangalore circles for fifteen years or more. I even had a brief and disastrous career on stage in one of his plays. TOI devoted an entire para to my new brand of acting known as dead pan or simply - dead. Sigh ... greatness not recognized and all that.
Well, moving on, I'm back in Bangalore and just in time it seems to catch (he won't let me anywhere near his precious troupe and inner exciting workings with a barge pole!) Kalayan's latest called "Kab Tak Rahain Kunware".
Its being staged at the Chowdiah Memorial on the 20th. Anyone interested in Hindi theatre can catch more details on the website including ticket outlets.
Have a dekko and have fun!
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Shifting Gears
My daughter is now all of a month old and I've just about started settling into a routine of sorts. When I'm not looking at her and grinning like an idiot, I'm either tending to my son, my health, household matters, packing for my move back to Bangalore and of course finding ways to spend some quality time with the husband who's walking around looking pinched and haggard and somewhat attention deprived. Or I'm reading ... the only place I can find some sane moments to myself seem to be between the pages of one book or the other. Nights used to be for sleep and repose but these days I'm the proverbial on call vending machine so I've decided not to attempt any of that sleep stuff at nights and try reading and relaxation instead. Because as is the way with all pint sized babies, you've no sooner closed your eyes for those forty winks when small mewling sounds from the cradle are sure to wake you again.
And thats how I've overdosed on Mr. Jeremy Clarkson's tell-it-like-it-is brand of humor on my nocturnal reading sessions. It all started with "The World according to Clarkson" and that wasn't enough so the husband got me Volume 2 called "And Another Thing".
Whats great about this series is that they are a collection of short one or two page articles so its like a box of assorted chocolates and you never know what sort of treat you might find next! A bit bad for your health if you are recovering from surgery like I am - almost split my sutures laughing :-D
And the man has a stacked upper storey - by way of a thinking brain I mean. His commentaries are not just random ... they are a humorous take on everything thats wrong with our world, the political system, global hunger, going overboard with political correctness ... you get the drift? That and of course machines. Cars, jets, jumbo jets, 747s, this is the host of Top Gear we're reading from, so expect intensive knowledge on these. Plus the odd nugget thrown in about his wife, kids and colleagues. None of it saccharine sweet let me assure you.
Haven't enjoyed humour reads since P.G.W. although of a completely different variety.
I've also discovered that while I was busy settling into my 30s, some phenomenal new artists have entered the music scene. And they all seem to be under 20 years old. Heard a lyrical, soulful one called "Chasing Pavements" from an artist called Adele who is apparently about 17 or something. The younger lot seemed to have lived so much more so quickly - and they seem to comprehend the meaning of things with so much clarity. Imogen Heap, Amy Winehouse, Keane ... there is so much wonderful music from the West on the airwaves these days. This is probably what evolution is really about.
Have a listen to Adele (I couldn't embed the you tube link here for some reason). She's quite wonderful!
And thats how I've overdosed on Mr. Jeremy Clarkson's tell-it-like-it-is brand of humor on my nocturnal reading sessions. It all started with "The World according to Clarkson" and that wasn't enough so the husband got me Volume 2 called "And Another Thing".
Whats great about this series is that they are a collection of short one or two page articles so its like a box of assorted chocolates and you never know what sort of treat you might find next! A bit bad for your health if you are recovering from surgery like I am - almost split my sutures laughing :-D
And the man has a stacked upper storey - by way of a thinking brain I mean. His commentaries are not just random ... they are a humorous take on everything thats wrong with our world, the political system, global hunger, going overboard with political correctness ... you get the drift? That and of course machines. Cars, jets, jumbo jets, 747s, this is the host of Top Gear we're reading from, so expect intensive knowledge on these. Plus the odd nugget thrown in about his wife, kids and colleagues. None of it saccharine sweet let me assure you.
Haven't enjoyed humour reads since P.G.W. although of a completely different variety.
I've also discovered that while I was busy settling into my 30s, some phenomenal new artists have entered the music scene. And they all seem to be under 20 years old. Heard a lyrical, soulful one called "Chasing Pavements" from an artist called Adele who is apparently about 17 or something. The younger lot seemed to have lived so much more so quickly - and they seem to comprehend the meaning of things with so much clarity. Imogen Heap, Amy Winehouse, Keane ... there is so much wonderful music from the West on the airwaves these days. This is probably what evolution is really about.
Have a listen to Adele (I couldn't embed the you tube link here for some reason). She's quite wonderful!
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Colour Coded
Just a quick note to wish all you good people "Vishu Ashamsakal!" - have a peaceful, healthy, fulfilling and prosperous New Year. In the usual Indian tradition of synchronicity, Bengali, Tamil, Punjabi and no doubt other new beginnings are being marked in and around the same date and I can't help but notice that so many of our customs are similar - yet so unique.
My own Kumaoni New Year was marked all this month of "Chait" and so its been a bright yellow month. Yellow for the mustard flowers we pahadis grow to signify spring and its bounty and yellow for the konna flowers my Kerala half of the family brings in on Vishu morning for much the same reason.
Yellow for the unifying fabric of the world if you will.
Whatever you celebrate and which ever way you choose to do it, hope it is glorious! All my Best Wishes!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Breathing Out
For me, sitting still is a learned response. Something in my DNA made me super energetic and nothing seems to slow me down! Except the fact that I'm about 4 weeks away from having my second child. And this slowing down is not by choice either. My body has literally rebelled by becoming a shape not conducive to quick movement ... and as Jane Austen would put it, I.am.finally."confined".
Yesterday, I handed over all my work in preparation for my long hiatus from the big rat race.
Today, I'm gnawing at my nails wondering what I'm going to do next. Five business ideas have already presented themselves to me on a gold salver as it were and one has already taken root in my mind as THE thing to do while I'm waiting for my little one to be born.
I may just be a lost cause. "Sheesh" I'm thinking. So is my husband and my son aged 4, who can't articulate as well but has been eyeing this new cat-on-hot-bricks mother quite warily all morning.
If its not the office then its things I can always find to do at home - dust, shift, maybe the centre table looks better at an angle sort of things. And did I mention the number of activities I usually find for my little boy to participate in? Well I do. He's had quite enough of this methinks. When he sees me coming, he's taken to saying ... "I velly tired now" "Ok?". Ok.
This afternoon, I took a few deep breaths, got my well meaning husband to work from home in the afternoon, left the son in his care (complete with a list of activities which something tells me were not even attempted), and got a friend to take me on that looong drive to the lovely Madinat Souk in Dubai.
We met a third friend there to belatedly celebrate her birthday over a simple Italian lunch at a restaurant called Toscana.
Our dear friend was touched at the gesture, we went to a new place after ever so long, we went as individuals and not as wives, mothers etc, didn't care whether the quaint abra rides were child friendly or the food too spicy to suit little palates. The conversation was stimulating, wide ranging and generally suited to adult cerebral stimulation.
The weather held up as well. It was just perfectly toasted for us to sit at an outdoor table drinking sparkling water with lots of ice and watching the world go by in the little Arabic boats while we chatted and people watched. Rounded up the divine meal of portobello mushrooms, some simple white sauce pasta and panna cotta with home made ice cream. Shared all our food and didn't worry about which of it was healthy.
It really is all in the mind. Once I decided I wasn't indispensable, it turned out that heck I actually wasn't! Also this news flash ... I am my own worst critic. I can actually do something just for myself.
Decided to ride the liberating wave and went to a saloon run by men - a first for me, and got my hair snipped in a smart, new cut for a little extra money and somehow didn't worry that it didn't fit 'the budget' that I usually allow myself at the neighbourhood parlor for hair cuts.
Got home and found that the world had continued to function. My son looked like he had done something decadent while I was away and enjoyed every minute of it, and my husband had that guilty look I usually associate with him having not listened to a single direction I had given him. A few calls to office elicited the knowledge that no, I hadn't been missed. My house help had done what she usually does and done it well without me having breathed down her neck.
I sat down, put my feet up quite literally and for the first time in as long as I can remember, asked for someone else to make me a cup of tea. Sipped it and decided that so much well being had to be shared with my blogger pals. And so, here I am.
I could get addicted to this. I could find that I have more time than I realise I do. I could even find that there is no excuse not to get involved in all the causes dear to my heart. In fact, tomorrow, I'm going to register with a few of the animal charities that I can now spend some time with. These places need newsletters written and its something i can do while I'm er still confined. Hmmm ... and then i could pay some bills online, and re-work that budget ... hmmm ... and that centre table there - didn't it look better straight? and where is that instruction book on how to make craft toys for kids? ... Hmmm ...
Yesterday, I handed over all my work in preparation for my long hiatus from the big rat race.
Today, I'm gnawing at my nails wondering what I'm going to do next. Five business ideas have already presented themselves to me on a gold salver as it were and one has already taken root in my mind as THE thing to do while I'm waiting for my little one to be born.
I may just be a lost cause. "Sheesh" I'm thinking. So is my husband and my son aged 4, who can't articulate as well but has been eyeing this new cat-on-hot-bricks mother quite warily all morning.
If its not the office then its things I can always find to do at home - dust, shift, maybe the centre table looks better at an angle sort of things. And did I mention the number of activities I usually find for my little boy to participate in? Well I do. He's had quite enough of this methinks. When he sees me coming, he's taken to saying ... "I velly tired now" "Ok?". Ok.
This afternoon, I took a few deep breaths, got my well meaning husband to work from home in the afternoon, left the son in his care (complete with a list of activities which something tells me were not even attempted), and got a friend to take me on that looong drive to the lovely Madinat Souk in Dubai.
We met a third friend there to belatedly celebrate her birthday over a simple Italian lunch at a restaurant called Toscana.
Our dear friend was touched at the gesture, we went to a new place after ever so long, we went as individuals and not as wives, mothers etc, didn't care whether the quaint abra rides were child friendly or the food too spicy to suit little palates. The conversation was stimulating, wide ranging and generally suited to adult cerebral stimulation.
The weather held up as well. It was just perfectly toasted for us to sit at an outdoor table drinking sparkling water with lots of ice and watching the world go by in the little Arabic boats while we chatted and people watched. Rounded up the divine meal of portobello mushrooms, some simple white sauce pasta and panna cotta with home made ice cream. Shared all our food and didn't worry about which of it was healthy.
It really is all in the mind. Once I decided I wasn't indispensable, it turned out that heck I actually wasn't! Also this news flash ... I am my own worst critic. I can actually do something just for myself.
Decided to ride the liberating wave and went to a saloon run by men - a first for me, and got my hair snipped in a smart, new cut for a little extra money and somehow didn't worry that it didn't fit 'the budget' that I usually allow myself at the neighbourhood parlor for hair cuts.
Got home and found that the world had continued to function. My son looked like he had done something decadent while I was away and enjoyed every minute of it, and my husband had that guilty look I usually associate with him having not listened to a single direction I had given him. A few calls to office elicited the knowledge that no, I hadn't been missed. My house help had done what she usually does and done it well without me having breathed down her neck.
I sat down, put my feet up quite literally and for the first time in as long as I can remember, asked for someone else to make me a cup of tea. Sipped it and decided that so much well being had to be shared with my blogger pals. And so, here I am.
I could get addicted to this. I could find that I have more time than I realise I do. I could even find that there is no excuse not to get involved in all the causes dear to my heart. In fact, tomorrow, I'm going to register with a few of the animal charities that I can now spend some time with. These places need newsletters written and its something i can do while I'm er still confined. Hmmm ... and then i could pay some bills online, and re-work that budget ... hmmm ... and that centre table there - didn't it look better straight? and where is that instruction book on how to make craft toys for kids? ... Hmmm ...
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Amma's acres
One of the great things marriage brought me was a special association with a unique lady - my mother-in-law. Although separated in age by more than three decades, we share so many traits in common that we are more friends than relatives. She is forward thinking, fearless, manages to step on many toes, embodies Kerala in her dress, cultural outlook and mannerisms and generally strides across all barriers through the sheer force of her personality. I once was part of her book club group and it was one of the most enlightening experiences of my life - given that not one other person there was my peer! Looking through some long pending downloads on my camera, I found some from this trip we made last year to Palakkad - Amma's very own nalukettu which she built away from her ancestral home and town in Trivandrum in that decisive way she has. It would be futile to express in words the beauty and serenity of what she has created by way of a get-away.
So here is an attempt at a story in pictures :
Nalukettu is amma's simple and elegant home with an open roof and receptacle to hold rain water:
The sun drenched acres:
What my little boy gained:
On my afternoons at the kitchen window:
Town tripping in Palakkad:
Pond beside the house : Father and son time
She now plans to use this place as a meeting ground for like minded women who need a refuge from whatever ails them - another club, this time on a philanthropic scale. I have no doubt that it will happen. As I said, she doesn't have time for pipe dreams. She's too busy fulfilling them.
For her, these lines from P.B. Shelley:
Friendship - whose coming is as light and music are
'Mid dissonance and gloom - a star which moves not mid the moving heavens alone
A smile among dark frowns : a beloved light : A solitude, a refuge, a delight.
So here is an attempt at a story in pictures :
Nalukettu is amma's simple and elegant home with an open roof and receptacle to hold rain water:
The sun drenched acres:
What my little boy gained:
On my afternoons at the kitchen window:
Town tripping in Palakkad:
Pond beside the house : Father and son time
She now plans to use this place as a meeting ground for like minded women who need a refuge from whatever ails them - another club, this time on a philanthropic scale. I have no doubt that it will happen. As I said, she doesn't have time for pipe dreams. She's too busy fulfilling them.
For her, these lines from P.B. Shelley:
Friendship - whose coming is as light and music are
'Mid dissonance and gloom - a star which moves not mid the moving heavens alone
A smile among dark frowns : a beloved light : A solitude, a refuge, a delight.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Snubbed!
And how. So the young 'un aged 4, was sitting around doing what he usually does - making a lot of noise on a keyboard we had bought him in a fit of utter foolishness. Me, well I was doing what I do best - feeling guilty - for not being in the same room/breathing space as him encouraging him to make music a la Stevie Wonder or some such good parenting thing.
After flitting from room to room, starting tasks, not finishing them, getting on the resident couch potato otherwise known as husband's nerves and giving even my two cats the jitters, I decided to ditch all this giving my kid some space business and went and plonked myself beside him.
Saw that he was trying out some nursery rhyme tunes. Started singing along. Quite loudly. All this interspersed with "whats up darling", "very good my kanna" and much pinching of cheeks and kisses on foreheads. After enduring all of this for a good 10 minutes, the young man turns to me and says in a patient, old wisdom voice ...
"Amma, can you please please keep qrrrieet?"
Goes back to making noise without a backward glance at the pile of ashes trying to do an imitation of me sitting right beside him.
Ah the shame, the shame! And where are those feet when you need them to speed you out of any given place?
After flitting from room to room, starting tasks, not finishing them, getting on the resident couch potato otherwise known as husband's nerves and giving even my two cats the jitters, I decided to ditch all this giving my kid some space business and went and plonked myself beside him.
Saw that he was trying out some nursery rhyme tunes. Started singing along. Quite loudly. All this interspersed with "whats up darling", "very good my kanna" and much pinching of cheeks and kisses on foreheads. After enduring all of this for a good 10 minutes, the young man turns to me and says in a patient, old wisdom voice ...
"Amma, can you please please keep qrrrieet?"
Goes back to making noise without a backward glance at the pile of ashes trying to do an imitation of me sitting right beside him.
Ah the shame, the shame! And where are those feet when you need them to speed you out of any given place?
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
The Game
So I ended yesterday with the official confirmation that my company has been cheated out of a significant amount of money by a client who masquerades as a top of the line advertising agency here in the UAE.
The incident dates back nearly 4 months when we agreed to take on a branding job for a well known agency and were required to produce and install some high quality graphics for a clothing brand named rather quaintly after a fruit.
Although we had been doing fairly well since my little production house venture started in Jan 2006, it had always been difficult breaking through established Ad agencies and so, I was on rather a high when we landed this job. We were given 15 days at a highly negotiated price to complete our work in time for a major event the clothing brand was launching. We set to and were delayed at the very start of the job due to incomplete artworks, incorrect measurements and lack of installation equipment which were all our receivables from the agency in question.
However, with some careful planning and a lot of extra effort and hours (I literally lived out of my car at the site during the fag end of the project), we managed to get the work done with a brief delay of just 3 days ... far from unusual in this industry. The result was a sultry looking Penelope Cruz (the face of the brand) staring out in various poses from a row of tall buildings overlooking an important thoroughfare in Dubai netting massive exposure for the client. A rather difficult job in other words, well executed and with the minimum of delays.
So imagine my shock when after using our product for the two months mentioned in their original contract, the agency suddenly did a volte face on us and simply refused to pay us citing the 3 day delay as the reason. When I realised that they had carefully avoided signing any delivery orders or invoices during this period (signatory supposedly out of town, accountant out of office due to illness etc), I knew I had been well, truly and expensively suckered.
Well, all was not lost I felt. Surely, wasn't all we needed really, was a face-to-face to set things right? Putting myself in a conciliatory frame of mind, I put together a comprehensive brief of all the documentation I had made sure to collect before starting the work and with back up from the directors of my parent organization, made a surprise visit to the agency to talk to their head. He had of course "just returned" from his business trip and received us very graciously and with no dearth of courtesy. Asking us to return for a proper meeting as he was backed up with prior appointments, he saw us out with every hope that the matter would be amicably resolved and a fair review done. More fool I!
In effect, I gave them enough time and ample notice to fabricate a series of non-events that were really a bunch of nonsense conveyed in jargon. Everyday interactions between production teams that are the norm were magnified to make us look positively incompetent and the second meeting with the agency had me face to face with a man who bore zero resemblance to the young, congenial entrepreneur with whom I had been interacting for all those months.
By this time, I was feeling positively disheartened and it didn't help that every time I went down that same thoroughfare, the result of our hard work kept staring me in the face. In the course of my career, I had dealt with many situations, had seen the good, bad and ugly of all things professional and yet, this had happened to me. My own naivete in the face of some slick manoeuvring from the other party made me feel hopelessly wronged. I had examined every aspect of our professional behaviour in the completion of this job and I couldn't find a single thing that would warrant this outcome.
And then it came to me. I was indeed being naive. Who knew better than I that cheats abound everywhere? I had seen it often - it was just that it was me at the receiving end this time. This was really not much different from money changing hands for so many reasons - to have projects awarded to you, to get your purchase orders released ... the list was endless. Corruption in other words was open to interpretation. It is not done to acknowledge it of course but we all at some level look up to people who can "get their work done" and there had been occasions when I hadn't flinched either.
Kind of sad that I could so quickly become so philosophical about this.
The next step in the phase of this little drama was of course legal. After notices duly filed and games dirtily played, we were offered something unacceptable - 20% of the invoiced amount in lieu of full settlement. That was last evening.
This morning, I'm done being understanding, conciliatory, philosophical and oh yes, corrupt. To accept defeat knowingly or simply to avoid confrontation in a just cause is the same as perpetrating a crime. At least in my book it is. The statement might be strong but I think the sentiment is quite valid. Sometimes it takes a rude shock to realise just how accepting we are of so many things that we have no business allowing.
Now we are all set to fight it out in a court of law. Our chances are slim. As I have seen, all it takes is for a local man to speak the native language, switch on the charm and get away with just about anything. I see some more heartache and a lot more money kissing us goodbye in my immediate future.
But I'm going ahead because quite simply, it will be the right thing to do - probably not smart, but right. And trust me, being right these days calls for a helluva lot of justification.
The incident dates back nearly 4 months when we agreed to take on a branding job for a well known agency and were required to produce and install some high quality graphics for a clothing brand named rather quaintly after a fruit.
Although we had been doing fairly well since my little production house venture started in Jan 2006, it had always been difficult breaking through established Ad agencies and so, I was on rather a high when we landed this job. We were given 15 days at a highly negotiated price to complete our work in time for a major event the clothing brand was launching. We set to and were delayed at the very start of the job due to incomplete artworks, incorrect measurements and lack of installation equipment which were all our receivables from the agency in question.
However, with some careful planning and a lot of extra effort and hours (I literally lived out of my car at the site during the fag end of the project), we managed to get the work done with a brief delay of just 3 days ... far from unusual in this industry. The result was a sultry looking Penelope Cruz (the face of the brand) staring out in various poses from a row of tall buildings overlooking an important thoroughfare in Dubai netting massive exposure for the client. A rather difficult job in other words, well executed and with the minimum of delays.
So imagine my shock when after using our product for the two months mentioned in their original contract, the agency suddenly did a volte face on us and simply refused to pay us citing the 3 day delay as the reason. When I realised that they had carefully avoided signing any delivery orders or invoices during this period (signatory supposedly out of town, accountant out of office due to illness etc), I knew I had been well, truly and expensively suckered.
Well, all was not lost I felt. Surely, wasn't all we needed really, was a face-to-face to set things right? Putting myself in a conciliatory frame of mind, I put together a comprehensive brief of all the documentation I had made sure to collect before starting the work and with back up from the directors of my parent organization, made a surprise visit to the agency to talk to their head. He had of course "just returned" from his business trip and received us very graciously and with no dearth of courtesy. Asking us to return for a proper meeting as he was backed up with prior appointments, he saw us out with every hope that the matter would be amicably resolved and a fair review done. More fool I!
In effect, I gave them enough time and ample notice to fabricate a series of non-events that were really a bunch of nonsense conveyed in jargon. Everyday interactions between production teams that are the norm were magnified to make us look positively incompetent and the second meeting with the agency had me face to face with a man who bore zero resemblance to the young, congenial entrepreneur with whom I had been interacting for all those months.
By this time, I was feeling positively disheartened and it didn't help that every time I went down that same thoroughfare, the result of our hard work kept staring me in the face. In the course of my career, I had dealt with many situations, had seen the good, bad and ugly of all things professional and yet, this had happened to me. My own naivete in the face of some slick manoeuvring from the other party made me feel hopelessly wronged. I had examined every aspect of our professional behaviour in the completion of this job and I couldn't find a single thing that would warrant this outcome.
And then it came to me. I was indeed being naive. Who knew better than I that cheats abound everywhere? I had seen it often - it was just that it was me at the receiving end this time. This was really not much different from money changing hands for so many reasons - to have projects awarded to you, to get your purchase orders released ... the list was endless. Corruption in other words was open to interpretation. It is not done to acknowledge it of course but we all at some level look up to people who can "get their work done" and there had been occasions when I hadn't flinched either.
Kind of sad that I could so quickly become so philosophical about this.
The next step in the phase of this little drama was of course legal. After notices duly filed and games dirtily played, we were offered something unacceptable - 20% of the invoiced amount in lieu of full settlement. That was last evening.
This morning, I'm done being understanding, conciliatory, philosophical and oh yes, corrupt. To accept defeat knowingly or simply to avoid confrontation in a just cause is the same as perpetrating a crime. At least in my book it is. The statement might be strong but I think the sentiment is quite valid. Sometimes it takes a rude shock to realise just how accepting we are of so many things that we have no business allowing.
Now we are all set to fight it out in a court of law. Our chances are slim. As I have seen, all it takes is for a local man to speak the native language, switch on the charm and get away with just about anything. I see some more heartache and a lot more money kissing us goodbye in my immediate future.
But I'm going ahead because quite simply, it will be the right thing to do - probably not smart, but right. And trust me, being right these days calls for a helluva lot of justification.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Bird Talk
So today, my little tyke started on the very first annual exams of his young but eventful life. I prepped the small guy endlessly like the insufferably good parent that I am and gave myself a mental pat on the back for having crammed his little brain with all manners of Environmental Science, English and Math thingies. I thought I did a fantabulous job of handling it all without stressing him out and even let his dad take him for a quick stop at a friend's birthday party last evening as a diversion. Fed, watered and put the young man to bed at 9 pm and sat back quite pleased with myself and proceeded to read Agatha Christie's 'Death on the Nile' for only the 50th time (and still couldn't remember who had "done it" by the way!).
Woke up in the morning still basking ... and came down to earth speedily following this conversation with my 4 year old:
- "All set for school baby"?
- "Yes mom. Today is exam no?"
- A warm smile of approval from me later "Indeed it is dear child. Now then - name 2 birds that fly in the sky?"
- "Aaaaaaaaa, errrrrrm ... "Duck" and "Avvel".
- "Er, and what is the young one of a horse called?"
- "Baby horse amma".
- "Pony, son, not baby horse and how about the young one of a Dog?"
- "Please amma, its baby dog" says the enlightened one.
- "Now honey, it isn't "Avvel" at all but "Owl", as in O for "Owl".
- "No, no, mom, its not O for Avvel, its O for "Hootie".
- "No baby, its not".
- "Yes amma, I was walking in the jungle and an "Avvel" came to hoot at me, me, me so its O for Hootie". Uttered with quiet confidence and a tone that would brook no further discussion on the subject.
Loud snickering noises from breakfast table belonging to husband and an ignominious exit to the office for me.
Lets hope they have grace marks for little boy charm and shameless lobbying by a certain paranoid parent.
And this folks - is only the beginning.
Somehow, I've not been able to focus much on work today. Cold sweat on forehead at the thought of EVS orals tomorrow.
Woke up in the morning still basking ... and came down to earth speedily following this conversation with my 4 year old:
- "All set for school baby"?
- "Yes mom. Today is exam no?"
- A warm smile of approval from me later "Indeed it is dear child. Now then - name 2 birds that fly in the sky?"
- "Aaaaaaaaa, errrrrrm ... "Duck" and "Avvel".
- "Er, and what is the young one of a horse called?"
- "Baby horse amma".
- "Pony, son, not baby horse and how about the young one of a Dog?"
- "Please amma, its baby dog" says the enlightened one.
- "Now honey, it isn't "Avvel" at all but "Owl", as in O for "Owl".
- "No, no, mom, its not O for Avvel, its O for "Hootie".
- "No baby, its not".
- "Yes amma, I was walking in the jungle and an "Avvel" came to hoot at me, me, me so its O for Hootie". Uttered with quiet confidence and a tone that would brook no further discussion on the subject.
Loud snickering noises from breakfast table belonging to husband and an ignominious exit to the office for me.
Lets hope they have grace marks for little boy charm and shameless lobbying by a certain paranoid parent.
And this folks - is only the beginning.
Somehow, I've not been able to focus much on work today. Cold sweat on forehead at the thought of EVS orals tomorrow.
Monday, February 18, 2008
One of these days
Ok this blog lay-out needs to GO. I'm trawling through pages of all manner of brilliant, humdrum, egocentric and what-not streams of consciousness and frankly I don't think that my page quite cuts it. Where is that colour, that self defining page element that screams "ME" (and no, the egocentric ref. above was not an adjective for me at all!).
Enneways, I'm sitting on top of 5 ft of guilt right now because really, its 8.46 am. and right about now I should have been tooling along to work in that well preserved Civic that passes for transport in my life. Thanx of course to the husband man who borrowed (solely hogged car space) on "OUR" Fortuner simply because he looks like he could squish all lesser mortals in salon versions eeking out road space beside him and he loves the feeling. I've actually seen the slightly manic self satisfied gleam in the man's eyes when he's day tripping. Which is practically everyday.
Sigh, why o why did I sign up for wifedom? Marriage? yes. Traditional, role playing, letting husband take over bigger car simply because he can, wife thingy - just ... well ... NO.
Plus I made dosas and everything for breakfast when I could've just let the lot of 'em eat toast and fruit like the emancipated woman I am. One dosa at a time to total self obliteration.
Ok and now, like this tired ole lay-out, I simply must GO as well. Toodle - ooo.
Enneways, I'm sitting on top of 5 ft of guilt right now because really, its 8.46 am. and right about now I should have been tooling along to work in that well preserved Civic that passes for transport in my life. Thanx of course to the husband man who borrowed (solely hogged car space) on "OUR" Fortuner simply because he looks like he could squish all lesser mortals in salon versions eeking out road space beside him and he loves the feeling. I've actually seen the slightly manic self satisfied gleam in the man's eyes when he's day tripping. Which is practically everyday.
Sigh, why o why did I sign up for wifedom? Marriage? yes. Traditional, role playing, letting husband take over bigger car simply because he can, wife thingy - just ... well ... NO.
Plus I made dosas and everything for breakfast when I could've just let the lot of 'em eat toast and fruit like the emancipated woman I am. One dosa at a time to total self obliteration.
Ok and now, like this tired ole lay-out, I simply must GO as well. Toodle - ooo.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
My Mitahaar
Well I finally got around to starting my blog for recipes - completely inspired by talented people like my friend V and the likes of Shilpa at aayis recipes .
I love to cook and I find the idea of instantly sharing a brand new culture simply by opening up my palette to a new taste truly fascinating. Also of course there are very few of us who would not find satisfaction in cooking and feeding people who simply don't have enough - I've never been able to understand how our race allowed for a calamity like hunger. Just look around you - we are blessed with an abundance of things to eat. Yet there are starved children on the street. Lets do what we can about that ... I'm sure a lot of you help in many many ways.
But for here, we'll try to keep it happy shall we? If you like to cook and want to read or share some recipes, please visit my new space at http://mitahaar.blogspot.com .
I hope to sample many new tastes trough my new blog and will be happy to answer any queries if I know how to!
I love to cook and I find the idea of instantly sharing a brand new culture simply by opening up my palette to a new taste truly fascinating. Also of course there are very few of us who would not find satisfaction in cooking and feeding people who simply don't have enough - I've never been able to understand how our race allowed for a calamity like hunger. Just look around you - we are blessed with an abundance of things to eat. Yet there are starved children on the street. Lets do what we can about that ... I'm sure a lot of you help in many many ways.
But for here, we'll try to keep it happy shall we? If you like to cook and want to read or share some recipes, please visit my new space at http://mitahaar.blogspot.com .
I hope to sample many new tastes trough my new blog and will be happy to answer any queries if I know how to!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Its all in the name
Its that time of my married life again - finding the perfect moniker for the second little one all poised to make a grand entry in less than three months. And then there is the husband. I need to count till 10 - or 100 now to bring down the ole BP.
Is it just this one man I wonder? A typical conversation with the significant other regarding baby names always ends with me resisting the urge to throw (pin)cushions at him. I mean he is yet to contribute a single name to the list of 50 odd masterpieces I've come up with. And no mister, "Ghatotkach" and "Lokamanya" and "Tilak" (yes, in the order!) somehow don't count, I'm thinking.
Yet he opines. And nods sagely. Or raises his well arched brows to express his disdain! Our dinner table discussions on this most important subject involve me presenting the fruits of my labours in organized lists (in alphabetical order) while the chomper across me articulates thusly:
"Nah, sounds like a bad word in Malayalam" or "Gah!" or "Interesting" (accompanied by snigger) or "I knew a girl with that name once. Didn't like her much. Forget it".
My gentle and constructive suggestion that maybe he should contribute something meaningful first before throwing his weight around yielded such gems as the ones referenced above.
In the interest of my better health, and for the lifelong welfare of the one as yet UNBORN, I've officially decided to relegate this "do-together with husband & love of my life" activity to the LC (Lost Cause) category.
Thank God for me - otherwise known as "Mom" and generally referenced as "MKB" (Mummy Knows Best).
Is it just this one man I wonder? A typical conversation with the significant other regarding baby names always ends with me resisting the urge to throw (pin)cushions at him. I mean he is yet to contribute a single name to the list of 50 odd masterpieces I've come up with. And no mister, "Ghatotkach" and "Lokamanya" and "Tilak" (yes, in the order!) somehow don't count, I'm thinking.
Yet he opines. And nods sagely. Or raises his well arched brows to express his disdain! Our dinner table discussions on this most important subject involve me presenting the fruits of my labours in organized lists (in alphabetical order) while the chomper across me articulates thusly:
"Nah, sounds like a bad word in Malayalam" or "Gah!" or "Interesting" (accompanied by snigger) or "I knew a girl with that name once. Didn't like her much. Forget it".
My gentle and constructive suggestion that maybe he should contribute something meaningful first before throwing his weight around yielded such gems as the ones referenced above.
In the interest of my better health, and for the lifelong welfare of the one as yet UNBORN, I've officially decided to relegate this "do-together with husband & love of my life" activity to the LC (Lost Cause) category.
Thank God for me - otherwise known as "Mom" and generally referenced as "MKB" (Mummy Knows Best).
Monday, January 28, 2008
Three Things
Not to sound like this is about the Magi or anything, but HHG tagged me in an unexpectedly sweet way. This here is just a really nice way of wishing good things for people ... this time for those in the bloggers' community. I have been asked to select three people and direct some positive vibes their way. Simple. And this picture
is to represent that the tag is indeed travelling virtually across the world. So without further ado,
1. Tys, like that very first poem, nothing has changed ... I wish for you some Blue Glass Pebbles for the Old Soul in you.
2. Shilpa has my "blessing" for letting us into her kitchen each and everyday and sharing so much with us. Like little packets of happiness. The very best kind of share ware.
3. Suma for her whimsical and spontaneous blogs. All the best with everything.
And much happiness to everyone who is reading this.
P.s. Why do I have this sudden urge to get myself a wand and a tiara? Anybody? :-D
is to represent that the tag is indeed travelling virtually across the world. So without further ado,
1. Tys, like that very first poem, nothing has changed ... I wish for you some Blue Glass Pebbles for the Old Soul in you.
2. Shilpa has my "blessing" for letting us into her kitchen each and everyday and sharing so much with us. Like little packets of happiness. The very best kind of share ware.
3. Suma for her whimsical and spontaneous blogs. All the best with everything.
And much happiness to everyone who is reading this.
P.s. Why do I have this sudden urge to get myself a wand and a tiara? Anybody? :-D
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Yesterday
Watched a lovely little film last night called "Manorama - six feet under". This was to cap off one of those near perfect days that come by so rarely and unexpectedly. I was home from work due to a back ache and enforced bed rest meant that I spent a peaceful day tucked up on my futon reading Murakami's "Kafka on the Shore". My little boy sat on the windowsill with the curtains drawn around him, listening to stories about giant turnips and dragon lanterns on CDs. Quaint and cozy. Made more so by the freak weather which has recently given us torrential rains and some crisp, cold breezes. We spent a nice afternoon giving each other loving looks, impromptu hugs and altogether being very cheesy indeed. The husband would have had a sardonic thing or two to say about all this mooching around. Had he been home. But he wasn't. Out eating dimsumthing with his brother. Ha!
(A quick bit about this Kafka book. All of you who read "Wind up Bird Chronicles" and wanted to murder that Haruki Murakami person for ending the book as abruptly as he did, give the man another chance with this one. Its mesmeric. Spellbinding. Delicious - have to keep turning the pages type of literary wonder. I've been thinking of sneaking it to work with me - but something tells me that might make me look like a bit of a fruitcake, should my colleagues walk in on me suddenly. In other words, do read if you can).
So the man named Tys came home early for a change and whisked us off to a park close to home. We chose a spot on the private beach strip annexed to the park and proceeded to have a whale of a time. Tys had thoughtfully set-up a couple of folding chairs and mats and had even thought to get us some samosas and lemon cakes in case we got hungry. We did. Most of the food somehow found its way into my stomach, and the rest was hurriedly divided between husband and child. It was great. I even had a blanket to wrap myself in and I just sat there listening to the water and looking at the distant city skyline while the other two played close by. A sudden shift in seismic activity right beside me brought me back to earth and I found a pair of eyes peering at me (looking lovingly as it turned out) from the chair beside me and it was Tys come to bond. The next hour or so I spent talking to my husband about this, that and all things random. Chatty we were. Almost like we hadn't a care in the world. I kind of hated to see the evening end. But there are things in this world like sending off your kids to school very early in the morning and we had to eventually pack and head home. But only after I had watched the stars for a long time and had a constellation or two explained to me by the hubba.
And yes, then we watched Manorama. Us 3 on a couch with underage tyke all tucked in and asleep in his dad's arms. Nice.
Moving on ... to Abhay Deol - who would have thought that Deol clan could produce something like an Abhay?? - is he really related to Sunny, Bobby and Dharam paaji? Oye and balle balle I say! He has done a credible job playing a middle class government worker in Lakhot (Rajasthan) who one day finds himself in the midst of a real life murder mystery. It was a gem of a movie - not perfect in the plot, but had me glued to the screen from start to finish. Gul Panag played Abhay's small town wife to perfection - housecoats, peeling aloos for dinner while arguing with husband et al. Fun. And the film is replete with these small things that we'll all find familiar at some point. Plus there is a juicy double murder, Vinay Pathak at his best and Raima Sen bringing in the glam factor. And of course, there is a LOT of Abhay Deol.
The best thing about days like yesterday is that they last forever in all the ways that count.
(A quick bit about this Kafka book. All of you who read "Wind up Bird Chronicles" and wanted to murder that Haruki Murakami person for ending the book as abruptly as he did, give the man another chance with this one. Its mesmeric. Spellbinding. Delicious - have to keep turning the pages type of literary wonder. I've been thinking of sneaking it to work with me - but something tells me that might make me look like a bit of a fruitcake, should my colleagues walk in on me suddenly. In other words, do read if you can).
So the man named Tys came home early for a change and whisked us off to a park close to home. We chose a spot on the private beach strip annexed to the park and proceeded to have a whale of a time. Tys had thoughtfully set-up a couple of folding chairs and mats and had even thought to get us some samosas and lemon cakes in case we got hungry. We did. Most of the food somehow found its way into my stomach, and the rest was hurriedly divided between husband and child. It was great. I even had a blanket to wrap myself in and I just sat there listening to the water and looking at the distant city skyline while the other two played close by. A sudden shift in seismic activity right beside me brought me back to earth and I found a pair of eyes peering at me (looking lovingly as it turned out) from the chair beside me and it was Tys come to bond. The next hour or so I spent talking to my husband about this, that and all things random. Chatty we were. Almost like we hadn't a care in the world. I kind of hated to see the evening end. But there are things in this world like sending off your kids to school very early in the morning and we had to eventually pack and head home. But only after I had watched the stars for a long time and had a constellation or two explained to me by the hubba.
And yes, then we watched Manorama. Us 3 on a couch with underage tyke all tucked in and asleep in his dad's arms. Nice.
Moving on ... to Abhay Deol - who would have thought that Deol clan could produce something like an Abhay?? - is he really related to Sunny, Bobby and Dharam paaji? Oye and balle balle I say! He has done a credible job playing a middle class government worker in Lakhot (Rajasthan) who one day finds himself in the midst of a real life murder mystery. It was a gem of a movie - not perfect in the plot, but had me glued to the screen from start to finish. Gul Panag played Abhay's small town wife to perfection - housecoats, peeling aloos for dinner while arguing with husband et al. Fun. And the film is replete with these small things that we'll all find familiar at some point. Plus there is a juicy double murder, Vinay Pathak at his best and Raima Sen bringing in the glam factor. And of course, there is a LOT of Abhay Deol.
The best thing about days like yesterday is that they last forever in all the ways that count.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Kite Runner
The movie version of the book had its Middle East premier here recently during DIFF and after a mad dash from work through crazy traffic and what not, I managed to get there just in the nick of time.
Pleasant expectations of sitting through a screening involving lots of buttered popcorn, wads of tissue to dry my eyes and the company of friends, were rudely interrupted when I almost tripped face down over a red carpet that went for miles and miles and a gaggle of people who looked like they had just stepped out of the cover of Vogue - dressed in other words, to seriously kill. Yes, I did get the memo asking me to attire myself in "smart casuals" or not bother turning up at all ... and I thought I did myself proud in a resplendent looking embroidered salwar suit people! Clearly not what the organisers had in mind. "Smart" and "Casual" were definitely code words for something else that evening.
Fortunately I had the company of my equally clueless friends and we ducked our way around the (too) well lit red carpet and made for the dark and shadowy corners of the theatre. Not so dark and shadowy as it turned out - the 3 way screen was lit to look like the night sky and it was so pretty that I couldn't care less about my fashion sense or lack thereof! I was there to catch a glimpse of Khaled Hosseini if I could and nothing else really mattered.
I didn't get any popcorn (too pedestrian for the DIFF committee no doubt!) but I got to feast my eyes on a very young looking Hosseini up on the dias, looking humble and handsome and letting the stars of the film shine for the evening. Any of you familiar with ME cinema will know that it was a treat to have the likes of Homayoun Ershadi (he plays baba jan) and Khalid Abdalla (of United 93 fame) present in the flesh just before watching their mesmerising performances on screen.
Kite Runner the movie would in my opinion have not been as poignant as it turned out if it hadn't been for the children Mahmoud and Hassan played by Ali Danish Bakhtiyari and Ahmad Khan Mahmoodzada respectively. They have been brought to Dubai to escape possible harrasament in their hometown of Kabul for enacting the controversial scenes stemming from class oppression that left such a mark on those of us who read the book. The movie version of the same scene I am happy to say has been handled with incredible restraint without losing any of its ability to hit hard in the gut. Those children are special, special, special - I could have Ahmad Khan for a son anyday ... watching him play Hassan in the movie will be a benchmark for child performances in my mind henceforth.
Marc Foster has directed a film that takes only the essence of the book without cheating us of a single nuance that made the book what it was in the first place. All the performances are bang on - although if I had to rate the best of them I would say that Baba jan's role played by Ershadi left the most lasting impression.
Every scene in te film has been pared down from the extensive dialogue in the book to paint a very vivid picture of Afghanistan then and now. The part towards the end of the film which shows a woman being stoned to death for adultery was short, brutal and made the point that every once in awhile we need to be shocked out of our complacent worlds and be aware. Human rights are not even words elsewhere in the world.
Off screen I loved watching the interaction between the Afghani kids and the American producers from Dreamworks who were there that night. I am far from being a die-hard romantic but even I could feel the real affection that they seemed to feel for each other. Altogether a special movie premier indeed.
And yes, the kites looked every bit as glorious flying on the big blue screen as I had imagined.
Go an watch this very important film. You won't regret it.
Pleasant expectations of sitting through a screening involving lots of buttered popcorn, wads of tissue to dry my eyes and the company of friends, were rudely interrupted when I almost tripped face down over a red carpet that went for miles and miles and a gaggle of people who looked like they had just stepped out of the cover of Vogue - dressed in other words, to seriously kill. Yes, I did get the memo asking me to attire myself in "smart casuals" or not bother turning up at all ... and I thought I did myself proud in a resplendent looking embroidered salwar suit people! Clearly not what the organisers had in mind. "Smart" and "Casual" were definitely code words for something else that evening.
Fortunately I had the company of my equally clueless friends and we ducked our way around the (too) well lit red carpet and made for the dark and shadowy corners of the theatre. Not so dark and shadowy as it turned out - the 3 way screen was lit to look like the night sky and it was so pretty that I couldn't care less about my fashion sense or lack thereof! I was there to catch a glimpse of Khaled Hosseini if I could and nothing else really mattered.
I didn't get any popcorn (too pedestrian for the DIFF committee no doubt!) but I got to feast my eyes on a very young looking Hosseini up on the dias, looking humble and handsome and letting the stars of the film shine for the evening. Any of you familiar with ME cinema will know that it was a treat to have the likes of Homayoun Ershadi (he plays baba jan) and Khalid Abdalla (of United 93 fame) present in the flesh just before watching their mesmerising performances on screen.
Kite Runner the movie would in my opinion have not been as poignant as it turned out if it hadn't been for the children Mahmoud and Hassan played by Ali Danish Bakhtiyari and Ahmad Khan Mahmoodzada respectively. They have been brought to Dubai to escape possible harrasament in their hometown of Kabul for enacting the controversial scenes stemming from class oppression that left such a mark on those of us who read the book. The movie version of the same scene I am happy to say has been handled with incredible restraint without losing any of its ability to hit hard in the gut. Those children are special, special, special - I could have Ahmad Khan for a son anyday ... watching him play Hassan in the movie will be a benchmark for child performances in my mind henceforth.
Marc Foster has directed a film that takes only the essence of the book without cheating us of a single nuance that made the book what it was in the first place. All the performances are bang on - although if I had to rate the best of them I would say that Baba jan's role played by Ershadi left the most lasting impression.
Every scene in te film has been pared down from the extensive dialogue in the book to paint a very vivid picture of Afghanistan then and now. The part towards the end of the film which shows a woman being stoned to death for adultery was short, brutal and made the point that every once in awhile we need to be shocked out of our complacent worlds and be aware. Human rights are not even words elsewhere in the world.
Off screen I loved watching the interaction between the Afghani kids and the American producers from Dreamworks who were there that night. I am far from being a die-hard romantic but even I could feel the real affection that they seemed to feel for each other. Altogether a special movie premier indeed.
And yes, the kites looked every bit as glorious flying on the big blue screen as I had imagined.
Go an watch this very important film. You won't regret it.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
HHG has tagged me to reveal 10 things I would like to do in the next decade of my life. I loved this idea! It got me thinking about all the wonderful things I've still got to do - very rejuvenating...
... 1) Like the thought that there is so much travelling I intend to move on with. Trekking in my native Kumaon, camping in all the gorgeous Kerala forests - especially Agastyagudam, riding a bike (ok I can dream can't I?) through Northern Karnataka and Coorg ... I also intend to do Mardi Gras and jazz festivals in New Orleans, visit cafes in Chicago, go sky diving in New Zealand and visit Baker Street in London. I also intend to make at least 10 trips to Pondicherry - its my favorite place in the whole world and I haven't been able to go for 2 whole years.
2) Ongoing effort in the next decade and actually top priority will be to be a better mother to my 4 year old and the new bundle of joy thats coming in May. I go to bed every night wishing I had more patience with my son and that I didn't have so many expectations from such a little tyke. Its a constant struggle against the way I'm made (demanding shrew in other words!) - but I really do want my kids to have memorable childhoods for all the right reasons!
3) I'm going to write a book. Cross my heart and hope to die. Its called "Red November" and its a work in progress ... ahem (i.e. been writing for the last 3 years with no end or publisher in sight :-D ).
4) I'll move back to Bangalore - with or without my husband! Be warned Tys ... its not an empty threat. Seven years in UAE feels like an exile and it gets worse every year. At the risk of sounding pompous, I do want to live, love and give something back to the country that shaped who I am. I dream of breathing Indian air sometimes ... and as filmi as that sounds its all too real to me.
5) Make a start towards helping my aunt in her Anganwadi projects in Kumaon. This means providing basic food (mid day meal)and education to underprivileged children. And there are any number of these in Uttaranchal. My trips back there are one heart breaking moment after another of deprivation and sad little faces ... too many for things to be any good. I do what I can when I'm there but its nothing without more time and yes the all important dedication. I'll get my little brood involved as well. I can't imagine a better lesson in humanity than this.
6) I intend to grow older gracefully. The way I look I mean - I shall colour and trim those tresses, take those bitten to the quick nails and actually go all elegant with them (French manicure ladies and er gents!), repeat said manicure every month or so(right now its an annual thing), stop wearing khadi and journalisty looking chappals as my mom so articulately puts it and try to do something with maybe gasp a dress or something. There, whew! I've voiced my secret desire and maybe I'll start looking a bit like those women my husband secretly ogles when he things I'm not looking!
7) Learn to swim - such a shame that I can't! And yet I expect my son to be some kind of junior swimming champ everytime he so much as hits the bathtuub. sigh ... work harder on point 2!
8) Spend much more time with my parents. They are wonderful company and they think that the sun shines out of my _______ . Time flies when I'm with them and my dad's creativity always challenges me to push the limits on my own. Plus nobody cooks food like my mom does. And oh yeah, I don't do nearly enough for a couple of people who have dedicated their whole live to me and my sister. And I want to.
9) Build a house in Pithoragarh and grow a garden just like my grandmother had. Peach trees, tomatoes and green green herbs (corriander, methi, green chillies). She passed away in Jan and with her gone I feel so insecure that my "pahadi" connection will go missing as well - and that my kids will lose track of their Kumaoni half. That house is a must.
10) And what I must immediately do of course is to tag Tys, Twinga, Prats and Vidya on how they're going to spend the next 10 years of course!
Good night all. This was so much fun!
... 1) Like the thought that there is so much travelling I intend to move on with. Trekking in my native Kumaon, camping in all the gorgeous Kerala forests - especially Agastyagudam, riding a bike (ok I can dream can't I?) through Northern Karnataka and Coorg ... I also intend to do Mardi Gras and jazz festivals in New Orleans, visit cafes in Chicago, go sky diving in New Zealand and visit Baker Street in London. I also intend to make at least 10 trips to Pondicherry - its my favorite place in the whole world and I haven't been able to go for 2 whole years.
2) Ongoing effort in the next decade and actually top priority will be to be a better mother to my 4 year old and the new bundle of joy thats coming in May. I go to bed every night wishing I had more patience with my son and that I didn't have so many expectations from such a little tyke. Its a constant struggle against the way I'm made (demanding shrew in other words!) - but I really do want my kids to have memorable childhoods for all the right reasons!
3) I'm going to write a book. Cross my heart and hope to die. Its called "Red November" and its a work in progress ... ahem (i.e. been writing for the last 3 years with no end or publisher in sight :-D ).
4) I'll move back to Bangalore - with or without my husband! Be warned Tys ... its not an empty threat. Seven years in UAE feels like an exile and it gets worse every year. At the risk of sounding pompous, I do want to live, love and give something back to the country that shaped who I am. I dream of breathing Indian air sometimes ... and as filmi as that sounds its all too real to me.
5) Make a start towards helping my aunt in her Anganwadi projects in Kumaon. This means providing basic food (mid day meal)and education to underprivileged children. And there are any number of these in Uttaranchal. My trips back there are one heart breaking moment after another of deprivation and sad little faces ... too many for things to be any good. I do what I can when I'm there but its nothing without more time and yes the all important dedication. I'll get my little brood involved as well. I can't imagine a better lesson in humanity than this.
6) I intend to grow older gracefully. The way I look I mean - I shall colour and trim those tresses, take those bitten to the quick nails and actually go all elegant with them (French manicure ladies and er gents!), repeat said manicure every month or so(right now its an annual thing), stop wearing khadi and journalisty looking chappals as my mom so articulately puts it and try to do something with maybe gasp a dress or something. There, whew! I've voiced my secret desire and maybe I'll start looking a bit like those women my husband secretly ogles when he things I'm not looking!
7) Learn to swim - such a shame that I can't! And yet I expect my son to be some kind of junior swimming champ everytime he so much as hits the bathtuub. sigh ... work harder on point 2!
8) Spend much more time with my parents. They are wonderful company and they think that the sun shines out of my _______ . Time flies when I'm with them and my dad's creativity always challenges me to push the limits on my own. Plus nobody cooks food like my mom does. And oh yeah, I don't do nearly enough for a couple of people who have dedicated their whole live to me and my sister. And I want to.
9) Build a house in Pithoragarh and grow a garden just like my grandmother had. Peach trees, tomatoes and green green herbs (corriander, methi, green chillies). She passed away in Jan and with her gone I feel so insecure that my "pahadi" connection will go missing as well - and that my kids will lose track of their Kumaoni half. That house is a must.
10) And what I must immediately do of course is to tag Tys, Twinga, Prats and Vidya on how they're going to spend the next 10 years of course!
Good night all. This was so much fun!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
The brave new world
Something frightening is happening to all of us and we're not paying attention to it. The world at large seems to be going slightly mad, but thats not the scary part. Its the fact that we're going a little Gillian Gibbons on important issues.
This nondescript, nice looking middle aged lady and a teacher - someone who reminds me of my mother, decided that at 54, she needed a "bit of adventure" in her life and taking up a teaching post in Sudan would fit that bill very nicely ... literally a far cry from her no doubt routine life as a wife, mother and teacher in safe Liverpool. What she got instead was what she endearingly/naively? refers to as "a bit more than I bargained for". And there, in that too understated for the occassion statement, lies one of the truly scary things I've heard lately.
For those of you following this obscure story in Sudan, the teacher in question was sentenced to 15 days in prison for allowing her primary school students to name a teddy bear after the Prophet Mohammed. This was part of a little naming game she was playing with her class - a supposedly harmless, educational excersise where students would name their stuffed toy a name of their choice. The fact that 40 out 44 of those children chose the name "Mohammed" may have had something to do with the fact that she selected it as the clear winner.
The Sudanese government and hardliners however, beg to differ. Gillian's little ordinary, everyday act was deemed an "insult to Islam" for which she was taken into custody, put through a full fledged court hearing and then, in all defiance of the thing we once knew as common sense, was actually sentenced to prison for 15 days where she received a presidential pardon after carrying out 6 days of the term.
Let this be a lesson to the rest of the world the hardliners say. They could have sentenced her to 40 lashes and even execution for this heinous and blatant disregard for the supposedly collective Muslim sentiment - but they have been oh so humane in only stripping her of her safe, prtoected middle aged dignity and reducing to ashes the entire basis that defines her life as a human being and subjecting her to the sort of time in court that we wouldn't imagine in our worst nightmares for near and dear. Charitable I call it folks. Positively charitable.
And scary part? Gillian Gibbons in her actions and statements since her release has indicated to the world at large that she somehow deserved all of it. That she had caused offence - and is teary eyed about how it was never her intention to do so. "I was very upset to think that I might have caused offense to people", she said. She cloaks the sentence she served in a vague cloud of "its a delicate area" and should not be discussed. The victim has identified with the oppressor.
The hardliners were always there. But a new and more dangerous element is now in the mix - its us. We who used to be outraged and active are now all justification and passivity. The other point of view is slowly becoming the only point of view - black and white are no longer good colours and this, along with Daniel Pearl and countless others is going to be an old forgotten story in the big book of 21st century horror tales.
This nondescript, nice looking middle aged lady and a teacher - someone who reminds me of my mother, decided that at 54, she needed a "bit of adventure" in her life and taking up a teaching post in Sudan would fit that bill very nicely ... literally a far cry from her no doubt routine life as a wife, mother and teacher in safe Liverpool. What she got instead was what she endearingly/naively? refers to as "a bit more than I bargained for". And there, in that too understated for the occassion statement, lies one of the truly scary things I've heard lately.
For those of you following this obscure story in Sudan, the teacher in question was sentenced to 15 days in prison for allowing her primary school students to name a teddy bear after the Prophet Mohammed. This was part of a little naming game she was playing with her class - a supposedly harmless, educational excersise where students would name their stuffed toy a name of their choice. The fact that 40 out 44 of those children chose the name "Mohammed" may have had something to do with the fact that she selected it as the clear winner.
The Sudanese government and hardliners however, beg to differ. Gillian's little ordinary, everyday act was deemed an "insult to Islam" for which she was taken into custody, put through a full fledged court hearing and then, in all defiance of the thing we once knew as common sense, was actually sentenced to prison for 15 days where she received a presidential pardon after carrying out 6 days of the term.
Let this be a lesson to the rest of the world the hardliners say. They could have sentenced her to 40 lashes and even execution for this heinous and blatant disregard for the supposedly collective Muslim sentiment - but they have been oh so humane in only stripping her of her safe, prtoected middle aged dignity and reducing to ashes the entire basis that defines her life as a human being and subjecting her to the sort of time in court that we wouldn't imagine in our worst nightmares for near and dear. Charitable I call it folks. Positively charitable.
And scary part? Gillian Gibbons in her actions and statements since her release has indicated to the world at large that she somehow deserved all of it. That she had caused offence - and is teary eyed about how it was never her intention to do so. "I was very upset to think that I might have caused offense to people", she said. She cloaks the sentence she served in a vague cloud of "its a delicate area" and should not be discussed. The victim has identified with the oppressor.
The hardliners were always there. But a new and more dangerous element is now in the mix - its us. We who used to be outraged and active are now all justification and passivity. The other point of view is slowly becoming the only point of view - black and white are no longer good colours and this, along with Daniel Pearl and countless others is going to be an old forgotten story in the big book of 21st century horror tales.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Worse than I thought
Ok, so Tys decided to thrust me into the limelight by tagging me ... clearly the man will not rest till the rest of the world is in on what he endures at home everyday :). In other words, this here post is all about: Seven Random and / or Weird Things about Me.
The Rules (yes there are rules!), are as follows:
Rules : Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
Well this is going to be interesting because even my mother won't deny that I'm somewhat er, strange. The pickings as it were, are far from slim in my case. But I'm going to go easy on you unsuspecting folks by listing some of my milder eccentrecities (is that a word?)here:
1. The husband brought it to my notice the other day, that I'm one of the few (read only) people he knows who laughs out loud in movie theatres even at mildly funny scenes. Ahem, see I thought this happened to everyone, but ... APPPARENTLY NOT. So while everyone gently sniggers or smiles to themselves at whatever comic relief is currently playing on screen, I tend to slap the proverbial thigh and pull out all stops with the guffaws and the ha ha's. Most unladylike I'm sure. So now I know why I attract so much attention at movie theatres. Hmmm ... ah well ... so its not my radiant beauty then.
2. Also, I will clean the entire house before the cleaner actually arrives. And yes, I have a point to that. I cannot have a random lady think bad thoughts about my housekeeping skills. Even if she is there to actually keep the house. The shock, awe and ultimately admiring looks I get from these erstwhile women are worth all the sweat and toil I assure you. Makes me happy ... and a little smug.
3. Offence is my best form of defence. Tys knows all about this. One of the Hindu scriptures state that going on the war path should be the final option after Sama (pacification), Daana (bribing), Bheda (conspiracy) have all been tried to no avail. Well, I clearly missed that class. Sometimes I find myself talking real loud (ie. needlessly arguing) at a mystified audience of my colleagues - and realise that heck, we were only discussing our post lunch 3 pm coffee order. A simple yes or no to the samosa with chutney or ketchup question would have sufficed. Oh, and did I mention that I always won at school debates. A.L.W.A.Y.S. Yep.
4. Clothes in the cupboard must all be folded lengthwise and placed in designated piles. If I don't have time to do this very important thing, they will remain in a heap and fall out at me or my unsuspecting cats, every single time the said cupboard is opened.
5. My specs, mobile phone and car keys have a mysterious habit of never being found. This clearly has nothing to do with me being weird. Can I help it if somebody put the glasses in the fridge next to the cheese, the phone in the bathroom and the keys in some new exciting place every single day? I'll bet its all a plot to unnerve me and frazzle my nerves ... not that it takes much. Tys insists that I have the "find things" chip missing in my brain. He goes so far as to say that it was heavenly intervention that brought us together or I would lose myself in a swamp somewhere someday. Oh what pish ptosh!
6. I light enough candles at the slightest excuse to pose a potential fire hazard to the entire neighbourhood and get this ... its in order to "soothe me" :-D. Definitely not soothing for the poor neighbours who are now quite immune to the smoke detector going off most evenings. He he he.
7. And finally, I'm too weird to end with this limited 7 thingy. So I'll end by saying that my darling son aged 4, is nothing like me. Well yes, he looks just like the mater all slightly chinky eyes and everything, but thankfully, heaven did intervene and made him as ahem, balanced and sane as his father. The child has now taken to looking at me warily (refer photo on top left corner) every now and then and asking me "Ma, whatcha doin?" ... what he can't articulate of course is "Ma, are you quite alright and all there?" - or "Mom, please tell me I ain't gonna be an eccentric old coot like you someday".
Thass all folks!
And oh yes, another thing I can never do is follow rules, so I'm not gonna tag anyone else. Ha.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Pahadi thing
So my quest for all things true seem to lead to all things food! These days I think of blogs in terms of recipes and I guess I could do a lot worse?
The last few weeks have been particularly exhausting and what with this and that, I can barely seem to keep any food down. Getting through a day of home, hearth, child and office from dawn to dusk has me a little lost sometimes - where's me in all of this I wonder? (Ok, not ALL the time, but enough to sit up and take notice). So the last evening I spent all by my lonesome, curled up on my couch (for all of 5 minutes) with the house fragrant with the evening puja incense and warm with the diyas was a special one. I had 3 hours to "discover" myself again and of course I headed straight to the kitchen! Tired from hours of nausea and the hard work of catering to my son, employees, clients etc. all I wanted was a delicious, simple and comforting meal to up my happiness quotient.
20 minutes later I had it in the form of "Methi Jholi and Basmati Rice". A recipe from my Pahadi origins to soothe the soul I tell you. Must share this:
Methi Jholi:
1. A bunch of fresh methi (fenugreek) leaves or 2 tbsps of dry Kasuri methi.
2. 1 Tbsp of atta (wheat flour).
3. 2 tsps ghee.
4. Pinch each of turmeric, chillie and jeera (cumin seeds) powder.
5. 250 ml of thinned down yoghurt beaten with a whisk
6. Salt to taste.
7. About 100 ml of water.
Heat some ghee in a heavy pan and stir fry the methi till fragrant. Add the atta and fry coninuously for 2 minutes till its turns golden brown. Now add enough water to make a smooth paste without lumps. Once the mixture blends, add the dry masalas and fry for 30 seconds.
Now add the beaten yoghurt and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Add salt and garnish with corriander leaves.
Pour this divine kadi over some hot basmati rice. You won't need any asides to complete this wonderful meal. Trust me on that.
The last few weeks have been particularly exhausting and what with this and that, I can barely seem to keep any food down. Getting through a day of home, hearth, child and office from dawn to dusk has me a little lost sometimes - where's me in all of this I wonder? (Ok, not ALL the time, but enough to sit up and take notice). So the last evening I spent all by my lonesome, curled up on my couch (for all of 5 minutes) with the house fragrant with the evening puja incense and warm with the diyas was a special one. I had 3 hours to "discover" myself again and of course I headed straight to the kitchen! Tired from hours of nausea and the hard work of catering to my son, employees, clients etc. all I wanted was a delicious, simple and comforting meal to up my happiness quotient.
20 minutes later I had it in the form of "Methi Jholi and Basmati Rice". A recipe from my Pahadi origins to soothe the soul I tell you. Must share this:
Methi Jholi:
1. A bunch of fresh methi (fenugreek) leaves or 2 tbsps of dry Kasuri methi.
2. 1 Tbsp of atta (wheat flour).
3. 2 tsps ghee.
4. Pinch each of turmeric, chillie and jeera (cumin seeds) powder.
5. 250 ml of thinned down yoghurt beaten with a whisk
6. Salt to taste.
7. About 100 ml of water.
Heat some ghee in a heavy pan and stir fry the methi till fragrant. Add the atta and fry coninuously for 2 minutes till its turns golden brown. Now add enough water to make a smooth paste without lumps. Once the mixture blends, add the dry masalas and fry for 30 seconds.
Now add the beaten yoghurt and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Add salt and garnish with corriander leaves.
Pour this divine kadi over some hot basmati rice. You won't need any asides to complete this wonderful meal. Trust me on that.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Easy like
Friday mid-morning brunches with friends are something I've come to enjoy a whole lot. We did this two Fridays in a row and methinks it can become a regular ritual.
The big idea of course is to have something hearty that can stave off hunger pangs between 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. With friends to help you cook-in, it doesn't seem like much of a chore either. We had puris both Fridays - with dry aloos/raitha and mishti dohi (mildly sweetened and baked yoghurt) the first time and "bhutte ki kachori" (corn stuffed puris) the second.
Those fragrant golden yellow kachoris are something that my mom makes to perfection - takes a bit of work but for those of you who are interested, here goes:
What you need:
For the filling
1. 1 tin whole kernel corn or fresh corn from 4 cobs
2. Whole garam masala (One stick cinnamon, 4 cloves and 2 green cardamoms)
3. 1 inch piece ginger and 5 cloves of garlic
4. Green chillies and salt to taste
5. 2 tsps of aniseeds and 1 tsp of jeera for tempering
Grind these without water to a coarse paste. Heat oil in a pan, splutter the jeera and anise till fragrant. Add the paste and stir fry for about 10 minutes till the mixture is almost dry and the oil separates.
For the dough:
1. Whole wheat flour (atta) and semolina (rava) in a 3:1 proportion
2. 2 tbsps of melted ghee
3. Salt to taste
4. Water for kneading
5. Oil to deep fry
Sift the flours together with salt and rub in the melted ghee for a biscuit crumble like consistency. Add water to make a smooth and slightly hard - regular puri dough.
To make these golden treats:
1. Make small balls of the dough.
2. Roll out each to the size of a regular puri and place some of the filling in the centre.
3. Seal the dough on all sides and roll out again gently
4. Deep fry.
These are best served with green chutney (mint, corriander leaves, green chillies, salt, sugar and jeera ground together) and a spicy potato with thin gravy (splutter onion seeds (kalonji), garlic and green chillies slit length wise in some hot oil, add chopped onions with turmeric and salt and cook in water till done).
These here kachoris make like they're straight from kitchen heaven! - hope this works for you guys as well. Happy cooking.
The big idea of course is to have something hearty that can stave off hunger pangs between 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. With friends to help you cook-in, it doesn't seem like much of a chore either. We had puris both Fridays - with dry aloos/raitha and mishti dohi (mildly sweetened and baked yoghurt) the first time and "bhutte ki kachori" (corn stuffed puris) the second.
Those fragrant golden yellow kachoris are something that my mom makes to perfection - takes a bit of work but for those of you who are interested, here goes:
What you need:
For the filling
1. 1 tin whole kernel corn or fresh corn from 4 cobs
2. Whole garam masala (One stick cinnamon, 4 cloves and 2 green cardamoms)
3. 1 inch piece ginger and 5 cloves of garlic
4. Green chillies and salt to taste
5. 2 tsps of aniseeds and 1 tsp of jeera for tempering
Grind these without water to a coarse paste. Heat oil in a pan, splutter the jeera and anise till fragrant. Add the paste and stir fry for about 10 minutes till the mixture is almost dry and the oil separates.
For the dough:
1. Whole wheat flour (atta) and semolina (rava) in a 3:1 proportion
2. 2 tbsps of melted ghee
3. Salt to taste
4. Water for kneading
5. Oil to deep fry
Sift the flours together with salt and rub in the melted ghee for a biscuit crumble like consistency. Add water to make a smooth and slightly hard - regular puri dough.
To make these golden treats:
1. Make small balls of the dough.
2. Roll out each to the size of a regular puri and place some of the filling in the centre.
3. Seal the dough on all sides and roll out again gently
4. Deep fry.
These are best served with green chutney (mint, corriander leaves, green chillies, salt, sugar and jeera ground together) and a spicy potato with thin gravy (splutter onion seeds (kalonji), garlic and green chillies slit length wise in some hot oil, add chopped onions with turmeric and salt and cook in water till done).
These here kachoris make like they're straight from kitchen heaven! - hope this works for you guys as well. Happy cooking.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
The big divide
At 33, I've already begun to think of 20 somethings as the "brave NEW generation" of young 'uns who go out an take what they want! Methinks this is not good for my much coddled brain cells. I mean, I don't recognise most of anything thats being spoken about, whispered and giggled between my younger friends these days. Its a strange feeling folks. I'm no longer at the core of things. The world in other words, has ceased to revolve around me! Fancy that!
I've always been slightly strange and quixotic (my family assures me). But this new phenomenon of having to look up the hipsters english language dictionary for all things happening, cannot be all me surely? - right? RIGHT?
So I'm going to deal with this new thingamybob change the way I do anything else. With class and elan* - (and for those of you who think being 30 is a sort of premature death, foot note follows). In other words, this week shall see me tint my greying tresses, french polish those bitten to the quick nails, update my make-up kit ( ... as if I have one), get meself a few of those bubble skirts and shifts that make you look stick thin on top and slightly pregnant in the centre (all in the name of fashion) and seriously change the way I talk. I mean seriously. Mouthing words like the above referenced elan, ubiquitous, supercilious and merde, merde, merde are just not going to get me anywhere. I realise that now. Nor are the abilities to think, reason, be a Montessori mom and cook more than one decent meal a day. These here put me firmly in the "do you actually have a life" category. So they definitely have to go.
I need these in a hurry y'all - a stylist, a babysitter, Paris Hilton's finishing school address and above all - a translator. Comprende? Well then, get on it - STAT.
*elan is fancy for distinctive style and flair. Write that 20 times on the black board now.
I've always been slightly strange and quixotic (my family assures me). But this new phenomenon of having to look up the hipsters english language dictionary for all things happening, cannot be all me surely? - right? RIGHT?
So I'm going to deal with this new thingamybob change the way I do anything else. With class and elan* - (and for those of you who think being 30 is a sort of premature death, foot note follows). In other words, this week shall see me tint my greying tresses, french polish those bitten to the quick nails, update my make-up kit ( ... as if I have one), get meself a few of those bubble skirts and shifts that make you look stick thin on top and slightly pregnant in the centre (all in the name of fashion) and seriously change the way I talk. I mean seriously. Mouthing words like the above referenced elan, ubiquitous, supercilious and merde, merde, merde are just not going to get me anywhere. I realise that now. Nor are the abilities to think, reason, be a Montessori mom and cook more than one decent meal a day. These here put me firmly in the "do you actually have a life" category. So they definitely have to go.
I need these in a hurry y'all - a stylist, a babysitter, Paris Hilton's finishing school address and above all - a translator. Comprende? Well then, get on it - STAT.
*elan is fancy for distinctive style and flair. Write that 20 times on the black board now.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Right about now, am thinking how enured I've become to seeing cats, dogs and birds being run over and dying painfully on the streets of UAE. Big 4 wheelers that were designed to glide over shifty sand, fitted with precise and sophisticated navigation systems, interiors straight out of a lifestyle magazine - can do almost everything. They can even squelch the innards out of kittens and not let the driver know.
It was a bird this morning. Flying low and meeting its end on the windshield of a passing car. The driver didn't blink an eyelid. How could she? Her time was otherwise taken up talking on the phone and trying to get a grip on her 120 kmph speed thing while approaching a traffic signal.
It might be children next. Oh wait. Thats already been done. Big assed status symbol of a Pajero just missed seeing that 3 year old who was playing on the ground. Just a case of poor visibility thats all.
So much is passe now. Too much actually. Things aren't getting more complicated. We're just getting to be surface dwellers is all. Rats in a race that ends with the end.
Banal but worryingly true?
It was a bird this morning. Flying low and meeting its end on the windshield of a passing car. The driver didn't blink an eyelid. How could she? Her time was otherwise taken up talking on the phone and trying to get a grip on her 120 kmph speed thing while approaching a traffic signal.
It might be children next. Oh wait. Thats already been done. Big assed status symbol of a Pajero just missed seeing that 3 year old who was playing on the ground. Just a case of poor visibility thats all.
So much is passe now. Too much actually. Things aren't getting more complicated. We're just getting to be surface dwellers is all. Rats in a race that ends with the end.
Banal but worryingly true?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Food for all
Visited a friend's food space blog the other day. She likes to keep it a secret but that would be a real shame y'all.
Its at http://foodonmybrain.blogspot.com . Love the simplicity of sharing what you know to cook with the world at large. Love her whimsical recipes.
If I was promoting one love for one world - sharing recipes would be top on my agenda. Shareware of the best kind. Lets get back to the quintessential - god knows we all need to simplify. Each day we'll pick, choose, gather and make our food. Time well spent. Time away from plotting, warring and taking away.
I love the idea of networking. Its so effective - so lets find out what they eat in Albania? - or what they don't eat in Ethiopia. Or what happens to the majority of our race who have bloated bellies because they are filled with air instead of food? Maybe knowing something will make us do something?
Food is representative of everything thats right.
Except when you don't know how to make what you want.
Except when you don't have any to eat.
The first is easily rectified. Lets make khichidi today.
1. Split black gram dal - 1 cup
2. Basmati rice - 2 cups
3. Sliced onions - 1/2 cup
4. Some ghee or oil (about 2 tbsps)
5. Jeera seeds and pinch of hing.
6. Green peas (optional).
Heat oil in a cooker (or any heavy bottomed vessel). Splutter the jeera and hing till your kitchen basks in the aroma. Brown the onions and add washed rice and dal. Stir for half a minute. Add some salt and pinch of turmeric powder for colour. Toss in the green peas if using them. Add exactly double the quantity of water (6 cups in this case). Close and pressure cook for 2 whistles (how quaintly Indian is that!) or until all the water is absorbed and the khichidi comes out all fragrant and fluffy.
Transfer to steel plates and eat with pickle, yoghurt, papad or just as it is. Remember to share. Some for the neighbours and some to the soup kitchen.
Its at http://foodonmybrain.blogspot.com . Love the simplicity of sharing what you know to cook with the world at large. Love her whimsical recipes.
If I was promoting one love for one world - sharing recipes would be top on my agenda. Shareware of the best kind. Lets get back to the quintessential - god knows we all need to simplify. Each day we'll pick, choose, gather and make our food. Time well spent. Time away from plotting, warring and taking away.
I love the idea of networking. Its so effective - so lets find out what they eat in Albania? - or what they don't eat in Ethiopia. Or what happens to the majority of our race who have bloated bellies because they are filled with air instead of food? Maybe knowing something will make us do something?
Food is representative of everything thats right.
Except when you don't know how to make what you want.
Except when you don't have any to eat.
The first is easily rectified. Lets make khichidi today.
1. Split black gram dal - 1 cup
2. Basmati rice - 2 cups
3. Sliced onions - 1/2 cup
4. Some ghee or oil (about 2 tbsps)
5. Jeera seeds and pinch of hing.
6. Green peas (optional).
Heat oil in a cooker (or any heavy bottomed vessel). Splutter the jeera and hing till your kitchen basks in the aroma. Brown the onions and add washed rice and dal. Stir for half a minute. Add some salt and pinch of turmeric powder for colour. Toss in the green peas if using them. Add exactly double the quantity of water (6 cups in this case). Close and pressure cook for 2 whistles (how quaintly Indian is that!) or until all the water is absorbed and the khichidi comes out all fragrant and fluffy.
Transfer to steel plates and eat with pickle, yoghurt, papad or just as it is. Remember to share. Some for the neighbours and some to the soup kitchen.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Doing it right?
Raising children is a much underestimated artform. When I think back on my own - er ... colourful days as a child and teenager, I can only give my parent's 2 thumbs up for what they must have had to endure!
A typical day in the life of little (and I mean the size of a 25 p coin) Ri, has a full sized (ahem) and mainly rational adult - namely, me, doing the complete gamut of emotion - starting with despair and ending full circle. In despair :D.
Truth of the matter:
1. Children were not born conformists. More is the pity! In the unfathomable mind of a tot, left is usually right and all rights are to be ignored.
2. Mothers and kids = power struggle.
3. Fathers and kids = ohlookwhatwehaveherealittlechildandwheredidhecomefrom?!
4. What your child wants to eat at any given meal is inversely proportionate to whatever treat you've lovingly and painstakingly prepared at the time. So if noodles and chocolate cookie are on the menu, rest assured that you'll be asked for brown bread and fruit!
5. LOVE is really what you feel for said tot. All else pales - or at least gets creamed ;)
6. Size 0 clothes from new fangled tot fashion stores = big sized 0 in your wallet.
7. And the OTT alert? Your kids are the spitting image of you at one time or the other. Things finally begin to fall in place.
Spiritual, future, awareness, clarity, life plan.
What I know does not come from a book, author, guru or god.
A typical day in the life of little (and I mean the size of a 25 p coin) Ri, has a full sized (ahem) and mainly rational adult - namely, me, doing the complete gamut of emotion - starting with despair and ending full circle. In despair :D.
Truth of the matter:
1. Children were not born conformists. More is the pity! In the unfathomable mind of a tot, left is usually right and all rights are to be ignored.
2. Mothers and kids = power struggle.
3. Fathers and kids = ohlookwhatwehaveherealittlechildandwheredidhecomefrom?!
4. What your child wants to eat at any given meal is inversely proportionate to whatever treat you've lovingly and painstakingly prepared at the time. So if noodles and chocolate cookie are on the menu, rest assured that you'll be asked for brown bread and fruit!
5. LOVE is really what you feel for said tot. All else pales - or at least gets creamed ;)
6. Size 0 clothes from new fangled tot fashion stores = big sized 0 in your wallet.
7. And the OTT alert? Your kids are the spitting image of you at one time or the other. Things finally begin to fall in place.
Spiritual, future, awareness, clarity, life plan.
What I know does not come from a book, author, guru or god.